Suffered to Slumber
by devirnis
Summary: "Breathe quick, breathe slow, put the gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Any way you like, you're gonna die down here."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hey guys! I couldn't resist, I just had to start this. Another response to Connie Nervegas' challenge.

* * *

_There are moments when, even to the sober eye of Reason, the world of our sad Humanity may assume the semblance of a Hell_

_- _Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

**Chapter One**

Mikey pressed his face eagerly up against the window of the comic book store. He grinned, giddy with excitement. The next chapter in his new favourite series was out! Tomorrow, when the store was actually open, he'd be back. Although he'd spent all his money for the month on the latest video game, he knew where Raph's secret stash was. Surely his brother wouldn't miss a couple bucks …

He rubbed his hands together eagerly, backing away from the store. He had to get back soon, before anyone noticed he was missing. His brothers would tease him to no end if they found out that he liked to sneak out to just look at the comic book cover. They didn't get it; Leo had his mediation, Raph had his punching bag, and Donny had his tools.

_Too each his own,_ Mikey thought, starting to jog in the direction of the lair. It was dark out, and a pretty chilly night, but it didn't bother him. Because of the weather, no one was out this late, so free to do pretty much whatever he felt like. And if he kept moving, he didn't get too cold.

He raced into the middle of the street and did a cartwheel, just for fun. It was nice to be out in the open air, able to stretch his legs somewhere that didn't smell of rotting garbage.

As he stood up and brushed off his hands, he heard running footsteps. He spun around, hands reaching for his nunchucks, but too late. Someone knocked him to the ground. His head cracked against the pavement, and everything went black.

* * *

Mikey slowly came to his senses, his head throbbing. He tried to sit up, but bashed his head on something. He groaned, slumping back onto his shell. What had happened? His eyes opened, and as soon as they focused, he knew something was wrong.

An eerie green light illuminated the small space he was in. It was a box of some kind—Plexiglas?—just barely big enough for him. Dread immediately swept over him; he hadn't figured out what was going on, but it was definitely not good. Small, creepy boxes never were. He craned his neck, trying to see what was going on. It was dark, despite the weird light, almost too dark to really see anything. He moved his hand, and his fingers brushed up against something.

_A glowstick?_

He fumbled around for anything else. He ended up with a few more glowsticks, a tape recorder, a walkie-talkie, and a small revolver. Interesting finds, for a creepy glass box. Why would someone give him a gun with—he checked the chamber—one bullet in it? Was he supposed to shoot his way out? Maybe the tape recorder would have some helpful instructions.

He pressed the play button, and listened for a moment. Static, at first, and then:

"_Hey, freak. Wondering why you're here? Because nobody messes with the Purple Dragons and gets away with it. You're a warning, to your friends. So breathe quick, breathe slow, put the gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Any way you like, you're gonna die down here."_

More static, and the tape ended. _Down here?_ Mikey grabbed the glowstick, unable to stop his hand from trembling. He raised it, pressed it against the Plexiglas roof. There was something pressing against the lid of his prison. He squinted, trying to make sense of the situation—and then it hit him.

_Dirt._

He moved the glowstick, holding it up against the wall beside him. More dirt, packed tightly around his box, his coffin. He was buried, buried alive. No. This couldn't be right … this didn't happen in real life.

He began to hyperventilate.

_Shit._ Normally, he didn't swear—that was Raph's thing—but if there was every a time for it, now certainly was. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit."

This couldn't be happening. He closed his eyes and pinched himself, trying to wake up. He didn't; he could still feel the cold Plexiglas beneath him. His heart sped him. He couldn't move. This coffin was suffocatingly small, and it seemed to be getting smaller.

"Come on, dude," he breathed. "Calm down. You're just gonna use up the air in here. Think, there's gotta be some way out of here."

Involuntarily, his eyes flickered to the gun.

"No, not _that_ way." He kicked it to the bottom of the box. "Out of sight, out of mind. Alright, let's think. Glowsticks aren't gonna help at all, neither is _that_. Can't shoot your way out. Tape recorder's useless unless you want to start a podcast or something … The walkie-talkie!"

He grabbed it, flicked it on, and held down the talk button. "Hello?"

Nothing. Only static.

"Hello?" he ventured again, more tentatively.

Still static. It filled the transparent coffin, poured into his body, wrapped him in a cold, hopeless fog. Static, and nothing else. No voice, no sound other than the static.

"Hello?" His voice cracked, and he choked back a sob.

Why had they done this? Offered him some small semblance of hope, of light, only to crush him? He couldn't fight the tears that began to stream down his face. You're going to die down here, the voice had said. It bounced off at first. Horrible things had happened to him, to his brothers, in the past, but nothing like this. This was death, the end, in the worst way imaginable. Slow, slow suffocation.

He grabbed the tape recorder and flung it, as best he could, to the end of the coffin. He kicked it against the wall, and heard it crack. He kicked it again, and again, and again, ignoring the jagged edges that cut into his flesh. He kicked it until it was scattered in a dozen pieces of stifled hope at the bottom of his casket.

He dropped the walkie-talkie, placed his hands over his eyes, and let out a long, ragged scream of anguish.

"_You're gonna die down here."_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow, I did not expect this to get that popular XD Hope you enjoy the quote, I thought it was rather fitting.

Thanks to **LilNinjaWolf, ChiakiAngel, Who am I. Well. I'm just Me, Connie Nervegas, CrazyBeaver, BubblyShell22, Feathers Fall Like Snow, Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee, Diamond-Of-Longcleave, Pludoh, PIRATEofHOGWARTS, **and** sweetpeatea** for their reviews! Hope you guys enjoy :D

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'_Tis now the very witching time of night,  
__When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out  
__Contagion to this world. Now I could drink hot blood  
__And do such business as the bitter day  
__Would quake to look on…  
_

- William Shakespeare

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**Chapter Two**

Raphael was sleeping soundly, enjoying the relaxation after a long day of training, when he was roused by the sound of his shell cell ringing. He cracked one eye open, glaring at the small light illuminating the darkness of his room. Whoever this was, it had better be good. He lazily snatched the phone off his bedside (or hammock-side) table, and flipped it open.

"What?" he growled.

"It's Casey."

"Good morning," he grunted, unimpressed, hoping Casey would get the hint. As much as he loved beating on Purple Dragons, he loved sleep even more.

"Yeah, yeah, morning to you too."

"Look, Case, if you called just to chat, I was kind of in the middle of something."

"What? Oh, right. I mean, no. I called because someone left a box outside my apartment."

"That would probably be the mailman, genius."

"Doubt it. It's got 'For the freaks' written on it."

Raph sat up in bed. That was interesting. "Okay, what does it look like?"

"Um … A box."

"Thanks a lot, detective."

"Well? D'you wanna come pick it up?"

Part of Raph wanted to say hell no and just go back to sleep. What could be so important that it couldn't wait until morning? But something nagged at the back of his mind, told him that if he left this, something horrible would happen. He debated it for a split-second, then sighed.

"I'll meet you half way."

* * *

Raph was back at the lair soon, but not soon enough for his liking. His short jaunt to meet Casey had chilled him just enough that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep for a while. He approached Leo's room, the small, mysterious package clutched in his hand. Whatever this was, it had better be worth sacrificing a nice night of sleep for.

"Leo."

He waited for a few moments outside his brother's door. Nothing. Sighing angrily, he stormed inside and went straight to the bed.

"Hey, Leo. Rise and shine."

"Wha…?" Leo woke with a start, his eyes bleary. "'S going on?"

"Someone sent Casey a box, for us."

Instantly, the team leader was wide-awake. "And you brought it _here_? It could be a tracking device—or worse, a bomb! Raph, what were you thinking?"

His eyes narrowed. He knew his brother was right, but there was no way in hell he was going to acknowledge that. "I was thinking that I'd like to get back to bed. Do you think we should get Donnie to check it out?"

"Of course I do!" Leo fumed. "For all we know, it's rigged to spray anthrax at us when it's opened. Come on, let's go get him up."

Leo sprinted off in the direction of Don's room, while Raph sauntered his way there. The older turtle was blowing this thing way out of proportion. Odds were that it was just some stupid hate mail that they'd end up tossing in a few seconds. Like any of their enemies were smart enough to send anthrax.

Unconsciously, he held the box a little farther away from him.

When he got to Don's bedroom, the techno-geek was stumbling out of bed, looking confused.

"We got mail?" he asked sleepily.

"Leo reckons it's gonna kill us." Raph thrust the package into Don's hands.

The turtle inspected it for a moment. "Well, if it is a bomb, we won't know until we open it. If it's poison …" He motioned for them to follow him to his lab. Once there, he grabbed a box of plastic gloves, and put them on as best he could. He then handed out surgical masks. "This should protect us … somewhat."

Raph involuntarily tensed as Don began to carefully open the wrappings. Leo looked like he was ready to bolt at the smallest sign of danger. As Don finally opened the box, Raph held his breath.

"It's a walkie-talkie," the purple-banded turtle announced.

Raph and Leo ripped off their masks at the same time. "A what?" Leo asked, peering cautiously into the open package.

"A walkie-talkie. You know, a handheld, portable, two-way radio receiver?" Don smirked. "Maybe someone just wants to chat with us."

"Yeah, right." Raph scoffed as Leo took it out of the box.

"Someone sent it to us for a reason," Leo mused, looking it over. "It must be important, somehow." He switched it on and held it to his face. "Hello?"

* * *

Mikey's eyes snapped open. Had he just heard his brother speak? He peered at the dirt on top of him, but there was no sign of movement.

Perfect. He was already going crazy.

"_Hello? Is anyone there?"_

No, he _definitely_ heard it that time. Oh! The walkie-talkie! Mikey's heart leapt, and hope surged through him. He fumbled around until he found the device he was looking for.

"Leo?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Finally! Essay writing madness has stopped for the moment, so I can actually get around to updating stuff. Holy crap, shout outs. Here goes:

Thanks to **CrazyBeaver, sweetpeatea, Pludoh, LilNinjaWolf, BlowMyHeartUp, BubblyShell22, The Royal Frog, ChiakiAngel, Feathers Fall Like Snow, Doremi Fasollati, Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee, (), **and **Kyaserin Marii** for reviewing! And yes, this whole situation is inspired by the CSI episode "Grave Danger" (where I also got my math from). Check it out, it's a good one.

* * *

_Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged, crimes avenged._

- Samuel Johnson

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**Chapter Three**

"_Leo?"_

Raph's mouth went dry as he heard his baby brother's voice come from the walkie-talkie. Whatever was going on, it sure as hell wasn't good. And Mikey, of all people, was right in the middle of it. He had to calm himself down, think rationally. So someone had his brother. That was easy enough to deal with. Find them, barge inside, and beat the living daylights out of anyone who got in his way.

"Mikey? What's going on?" Leo's voice only sounded confused, but his face betrayed the rest. Raph could tell, looking at him, that he was worried. Freaking out. But this couldn't be that bad.

"_I … I don't know."_ Mikey's voice cracked, and a cold dread swept over Raph. No, this was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Where are you?" Leo glanced at his brothers, why, Raph didn't know. Like any of them knew what was happening.

"_In …"_ Raph heard his brother take a deep, ragged breath, like he was holding back tears. _"Buried. I don't know where."_

Buried … No … Raph just froze up. He watched as his other brothers blanched. Leo looked like someone had punched him in the stomach, his face contorted with pain. Donny stood still for a second, then his face went blank, he handed the box to Leo, and he bolted to the computer. He was going to help somehow, Raph had to believe that. But right now, he couldn't move. He just stood there, cold sweeping through his veins, as the enormity of the situation slowly sunk in. Buried, alive. Mikey …

"_Leo?"_

Leo shook his head, grappling with lucid thoughts. He clutched the walkie-talkie a little tighter as he asked, "Are you sure?"

"_Pretty sure,"_ Mikey chuckled mirthlessly. _"I can see the dirt … They—the Purple Dragons—gave me glowsticks."_

The Purple Dragons? The cold terror in Raph was replaced by red-hot anger. Now he had a name, someone to hold responsible, someone to hurt.

"What else did they give him?" Don shouted from his computer. He didn't even wait for an answer before he started typing hurriedly.

"Donny wants to know if you have anything else." Leo relayed the message.

"_A tape recorder … but I broke it. It said …"_ Mikey's voice hitched, as he choked back a sob. God, that went right through Raph's heart. _"They said I'm gonna die down here."_

"No …" Raph growled under his breath. No. That wasn't going to happen. No way in hell was that going to happen.

"You're gonna be fine, Mikey." Leo sounded more convinced than he looked. "Do you have anything else? Your weapons?"

"_Yeah, but how's that gonna help?"_ Before Leo could answer, Mikey continued, softly, _"They gave me a gun. One bullet."_

"How's that gonna help?" Raph blurted before he had the chance to think. "Do they think he'll shoot his way out?"

Leo shot him a death glare, and then everything made sense. "It's okay, bro. It won't come to that. Do you have any idea where you might be?"

"_Um. I was looking at comic books on—"_ Suddenly, his voice cut out, and all they could hear was static.

"Mikey? Michelangelo?" Leo desperately held down the talk button, but nothing happened.

"Did we run out of batteries or something?" Raph demanded, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"No …" Leo's voice was strained. It was obvious, too obvious, that he was upset, but he was trying to hide it. Trying to keep up his "Fearless Leader" persona for the sake of his brothers. "Ours is working fine … they must have given Mikey almost dead batteries."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Leo knew he'd made a mistake. Raph cringed and clenched his fists. Don's relentless typing stopped for half a second. _Almost dead._ Come on, keep thinking straight. Comic books, Mikey said he was looking at comic books.

"Where's Mikey's favourite comic book store?" Raph couldn't believe he was asking this; he should _know_ this about his brother.

Leo sighed heavily. "On Clinton. We could check it out, but I doubt there's anything there to find."

"Oh really?" Raph knew he shouldn't be fuming, but he couldn't help it. Just assuming something could cost Mikey his life. "What makes you so sure?"

"This."

Leo reached into the box and pulled out a small slip of paper. He handed it to Raph.

_Now you can only wait. 24 hours._

He didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to react to something like this? Everything was just bombarding him, one thing after another, and … All he could focus on was Donny's obnoxious typing that filled the lair.

"Don, what are you _doing_?" Raph snarled, his frustration getting away from him.

"Calculating." His brother didn't seem put off by the harsh question. "If Mikey's in a box big enough for him, and probably breathing quickly, I'd estimate he's got about an hour and fifteen minutes left of air, at the most."

A punch to the gut. The statement knocked the wind right out of Raph. How could Donny say it like that, so casually? _No, don't hold it against him. That's just how he is. He's in science mode, and if that finds Mikey, that's fine by me._ But still … just over an hour. His brain couldn't process that. How was he supposed to deal with something like this? Before he went to bed, he hadn't had a second thought about his brother's life expectancy. Now, he was working with hours, minutes, seconds. Time was so short and he didn't have a clue what to do.

"Wait." Leo grabbed the piece of paper back from Raph. "This says we have twenty-four hours. If we can trust them."

"Why not?" Raph snorted callously. "Better to make us freak out for a day than an hour."

His brothers pretended not to have heard. Don continued, "That means they must have a vent, or something, to give him an additional supply of air. This is good. I might be able to track his position from the walkie-talkie."

"Might?" Raph asked, incredulous. "Might? We don't have room for 'might', Don."

"I know!"

Raph flinched slightly at his brother's tone. Normally, Don was pretty soft-spoken. He hadn't really been expecting an outburst like that.

"Raph …" Leo placed a hand on his shoulder. "Donny's going to find him, okay? I'm going to go wake Master Splinter, and then call April and Casey."

"And what about me?" He didn't want to sit around in the lair, feeling powerless while his baby brother slowly suffocated in some godforsaken coffin in the ground.

"I think you know," Leo answered cryptically, and then headed towards Splinter's room. He was dragging his feet, less than enthusiastic to break the news to their father. Raph didn't envy him.

_I think you know._ Yes, he did know. He had a name. And he knew exactly where to find the Purple Dragons. He patted his sais.

* * *

"Leo? Leo?"

It was no use, and Mikey knew it. But he still clutched the dead walkie-talkie, trying to will life back into the spent batteries. He had heard his brother's voice, however briefly, and that seemed to give him a renewed hope. They knew. They knew, and they'd find him. Donny was a genius, there was no question about his being rescued now.

He forced a smile, but couldn't quite shake the feeling of dismay. "What if" questions sprang to his mind.

What if Donny _couldn't_ find him? What if he ran out of air before they could get to him? What if his brothers weren't fast enough? Smart enough?

_Stop thinking like that. They'll get here. They'll find me._

_But can you be sure?_

_I think—Yes. I can count on them. I know I can._

_You know? How?_

_Because they're my brothers. They'll find me._

Focus on that. That thought seemed to satisfy him, block out all the pessimistic, questioning views. They were his brothers. Leo, Donny, Raph … the unstoppable team. They wouldn't give up. They'd find him.

He put his arms down by his sides, and winced as his fingertips brushed the barrel of the revolver. He didn't remember kicking it up from the bottom of the box …


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Only a few more chapters to go! Finals are coming up, so don't be surprised if it takes a while for me to update. I promise I'll get around to it sooner or later!

Shout-outs to **Simone Robinson, SeaThreePeeO, LuWho, ChiakiAngel, BubblyShell22, Randomchick16, sweetpeatea, Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee, Feathers Fall Like Snow** and **LilNinjaWolf** for their reviews for the previous chapter!

_

* * *

_

_One need not be a chamber to be haunted,_  
_One need not be a house;_  
_The brain has corridors surpassing_  
_Material place_

- Emily Dickenson

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**Chapter Four**

Raph could see his breath, despite the dimly lit streets. It was cold, cold enough that he probably should have grabbed some civilian clothes. A toque, at least. But he hadn't really been thinking when he left the lair. Everything had seemed to be tinted in a red haze of burning anger. It was that burning anger that kept him warm now, or at least prevented him from noticing the cold.

What was cold when his baby brother was in danger?

He shifted his position slightly. He was crouched on the roof of an old building, across the street from an equally decrepit warehouse. This neighbourhood was shady; no person in their right mind would be skulking around here at this hour. He laughed bitterly; what did that say about him? It didn't matter. This wasn't the time to be having an internal monologue. He was looking for movement, for the punks who called that old, rotting warehouse a hangout.

2:37 in the morning. A little late—or early—for Purple Dragons to be coming and going from their pad, but this was the only location he had. The only place he knew for sure was tainted by the thugs' presence. And he would wait. He'd wait for as long as it took; that was the only thing he could do now. Leo was making probably the hardest calls of his life. Don was frantically typing away on his computer, doing God only knows what to try and track down their brother. Raph couldn't help with either of those jobs. He knew he would be of no use to job, and he wasn't sure he could handle actually verbalizing the situation.

Not without going off the deep end, anyway.

The sheer size, sheer horror, of this situation hadn't fully sunk in yet. He wasn't sure he wanted it to.

Movement.

Out of the corner of his eye, Raph spotted a car coming down the road. No headlights. That was just asking to get hit at this time of night—or someone hoping not to be noticed. As the car drew closer, he noted that it was a pretty snazzy vehicle for an area like this. He'd gotten lucky. The car stopped outside the warehouse, and Dragon Face stepped out into the gloom.

Oh yeah, he'd gotten lucky.

Three more goons got out of the car after the leader, and disappeared into the warehouse. Four-on-one. He could handle those odds. He waited until the vehicle pulled away, and then he was off. In about thirty seconds, he'd moved from the roof to the backdoor of the warehouse. He jimmied the lock with his sai, and silently slipped inside. Another stroke of luck: the interior of the building was littered with boxes and crates, giving him ample hiding space.

He could hear voices; Dragon Face's deep baritone, berating the others for something they'd done wrong. Raph wasn't really listening. He didn't give a damn what they were talking about.

He clambered to the top of a stack of crates, and pulled out two shuriken. The first one went whizzing into the power generator. The second one was aimed at the face of one of Dragon Face's underlings.

* * *

_Meditate. Concentrate. Don't panic. Nice, slow breathing. I'm in my room. The ground is hard because … uh … I fell asleep on the floor. Yeah. On the floor. Because … because I was reading. Comic books. Everything is fine. Everything is okay—_

_No it's not!_

Mikey's eyes snapped open. He saw the dirt, and began to panic again. He couldn't help it. Dirt, freakin' dirt, everywhere, ready to collapse down on him, fill his lungs, suffocate him … Why couldn't he just stay _calm_? Leo would be able to handle this. He could meditate until the cows came home. But he wasn't Leo. He couldn't focus. If he was lucky, there would be an instant, one brief second, of calm, and then he'd remember.

"_Any way you like, you're gonna die down here."_

No. He wasn't going to. He was going to be okay. Leo had said so. Big bro had said so. And his brothers always followed through. Nothing was going to happen to him. He just had to wait it out. Keep calm and carry on.

"_You're gonna be fine, Mikey."_

Leo said it. Leo meant it. They were coming. Leo, Raph and Donny. They were coming.

* * *

There was something delicious about the sound the punk made as Raph's shuriken hit him in the back of the neck. A short, rigid groan. It didn't scare him that he liked that sound. And that scared him. But not enough to stop him. There were still two more guys he had to take care of before he got to Dragon Face.

The gang leader was smart, he'd give him that. Once the lights had gone out, Dragon Face hadn't made a sound—apart from one initial surprised curse. The other two morons were shouting and taunting. They should have just worn neon flashing signs around their necks, it wouldn't have made it any easier.

His body moved without him having to think. He barely even noticed when he dropped the second thug, with a well-aimed kick to the head. The third guy heard his buddy crumple, and just freaked even more. Raph struck out with his fist, catching the Dragon in the gut. The punk let out a tense grunt, and doubled over. Raph grabbed the guy's head, and, without thinking twice, smashed his face into the concrete floor. He heard something crack, but didn't care.

Three down, one to go.

* * *

Mikey found himself stroking the barrel of the gun. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he yanked his hand away, and ended up smacking the lid of his casket. He winced, and cradled his injured hand to his chest. Why did he keep travelling back to the gun?

_Because you know it's your only way out._

_No! That's not true. Leo said so._

Leo had said so. He just had to keep remembering it. _"It's okay, bro. It won't come to that."_ Just focus on that. His brothers were coming; Leo had said so.

_Did he? Did he really?_

_Of course he did. Of course they're coming. Leo said so._

_Did he actually? Think back._

Okay, fine. If that would appease the warring voices inside his head. What exactly had Leo said in their brief conversation? He'd wanted to know what was going on, what Mikey had in the box. He said it was going to be okay, and then he wanted to know if Mikey had any idea where he might be, and then …

_And then nothing. You got cut off._

No, that couldn't be it. Leo had to have promised. But no. That hadn't happened. He had been telling his brother about looking at the comic books, and then there was just static. And once again, he was alone. Alone inside this Plexiglas tomb, where he could see his doom weighing down on him.

_Stop thinking like that. I'm gonna be okay. They're coming for me, even if they didn't say it in time._

He closed his eyes. One more try at meditation couldn't hurt.

* * *

Raph could hear his target.

Dragon Face had stopped moving, trying to hide behind another pile of boxes. But he was breathing. Taking breaths a little too deep, a little too loudly. His heart was pumping faster, he was filled with adrenaline after the sudden attack. He couldn't help but respond the way his body needed.

That was fine with Raph.

He crept noiselessly through the maze of crates, honing in on the gang leader's breathing. A little further. Just a little further, and he'd be on top of the bastard. Just a little further, and he'd have answers.

Dragon Face must have sensed the danger. Without warning, he tried to make a run for it. Luckily, Raph still had one shuriken left. He sent it spinning across the room, and the thug gave a pained grunt as it caught him in the leg. He stumbled, and then Raph pounced. He crashed into Dragon Face, knocking him right off his feet.

"Gah!"

Raph whipped out his sai, pressing the tip to Dragon Face's throat.

"All right, scuzzbucket. Where's my brother?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while, but classes finished on Friday, so now I have plenty of free time to update :D

Thanks to **ChiakiAngel, BlowMyHeartUp, Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee, Feathers Fall Like Snow, TheLeoSnap, **and** BubblyShell22** for their reviews!

* * *

_Welcome to my nightmare. I think you're going to like it. There'll be some more when you come down._

- Alice Cooper

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Dragon Face didn't answer at first. Instead, he just smirked. And that smirk cut right through Raph. This guy _knew_. He knew, but he wasn't going to tell. That's what that goddamn sneer said. _"I know, but I'm just going to watch you suffer."_ But Raph had come, he had waited, and he had attacked. There was no way in hell he wasn't going to try.

"Answer me!" he bellowed.

The gang leader didn't flinch. If anything, his leering smile widened. He was getting a kick out of this. Despite the anger and rage that were emanating from Raph, the Dragon could see the anguish buried beneath the surface.

"Don't think so …" Dragon Face managed to rasp.

Raph pressed his sai harder onto the guy's throat. "Tell me, or you'll choke on your own blood."

Dragon Face laughed, as best he could. It was a cold, hollow laugh. And in that moment, Raph knew it was useless. And he was ashamed. He'd fought to get into this position, and after about thirty seconds, all his work was wasted. He wasn't going to get anything out this guy.

But really, what had he expected? That Dragon Face would cower before him, beg for his life, hand him a map with a big red X marked on it? Sure, and then he'd run back to the lair, victorious, and then lead the charge to Mikey's whereabouts. He'd dig up his little brother, a hero.

Life wasn't like that. Life wasn't that fair. And as he stared down at Dragon Face's cold, merciless sneer, he felt the cold sting of defeat. But damn him if he was just walk away from this.

Leo probably hadn't had this in mind when he'd more or less given Raph permission to go hunt down some Dragons. He probably expected him to rough them up a little. Noble, compassionate Leo. Well, that wasn't who had Dragon Face pinned to the ground right now. Raph was _tolerant_ at best, and this most certainly wasn't his best. This was personal. So tonight he wasn't going to be tolerant.

_Sorry, Leo._

He glowered at the gang leader, and let out a roar, driving his sai straight into his victim's windpipe. Dragon Face looked shocked for a moment, as if he hadn't actually expected the turtle to do it. He let out a few choked gurgles.

Raph watched him die. He should have been repulsed by what he had just done. He should feel … _wrong_. But he didn't. It didn't feel right—he hadn't expected it to—but it didn't feel like he had just done something unforgivable. That was for Mikey. If they didn't—No, don't even _think_ that. But … _if_. A very, very small possibility, one that definitely wouldn't happen …

But _if_ they didn't find Mikey in time … well. That was for him.

And it would be the start to Raphael's vendetta against the world.

* * *

It was no friggin' use. He just couldn't do it. He couldn't focus. He _knew—_knew that the dirt was there, weighing down on his coffin, his tomb, waiting to break through the Plexiglas and greet him with death. How long could a box like this stand up to that kind of pressure? No clue.

How long had he even _been_ here? No idea. His initial glowstick was beginning to dim. How long did they last? Eight hours? Only eight hours. No. It had to have been longer than that. It felt like _days_. He couldn't do this; he couldn't keep this up if it had only been _eight goddamn hours_. Not even half a day.

He had to get out of here.

He gave the side of his casket a half-hearted push. Unyielding. There was no way. But … maybe if he pushed a little harder …

_Maybe what? Maybe you'll punch through it, find it was actually cardboard the whole time, and you're home free?_

_I don't … No, but … I have to …_

_Face it. You're stuck down here. Trapped. And no one is coming to get you._

_Not true! It's not true._

_It's been eight hours. Don't you think someone would have found you by now, if they were really looking? Donny's a genius—isn't that what you always say? How come he hasn't found you yet? Maybe he's not as smart as you think. Or maybe—_

_No, don't. Don't say it—_

_Maybe he's not looking. Maybe no one's looking._

_No … not true_. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes._ They are … _

_Your brothers are sitting at home. They don't care. They would have been here already if they did. Face it. You're alone down here. No one is coming to save you. _

_They're coming …_

_You _are_ going to die down here. Alone. Because no one cares._

_No. NO._

He had to get out. Now. Right _now_. And he pressed his palms against each side of the coffin, pushing as hard as he could. He had to get out. Push push push, goddamn it. Push. No. It wasn't working. _NO_. It had to work. It had to. Push harder, just push harder. Break out. Get out. Come on. Push _harder_.

His muscles screaming in protest. His breath came in pitiful gasps; he would have been ashamed if his brothers could hear him now. But he had to _get out_. The light from the glowstick was almost gone, but he couldn't stop pushing to crack another one. Maybe just a little harder.

Please. _Please_. Something had to work. Something had to get him out of here.

He didn't know how long he struggled for, fighting in vain against the Plexiglas walls. But at some point, some semblance of sanity stepped in and told him, _Enough_. He stopped abruptly. What had he been doing? He doubted his brothers, doubted if they cared enough to rescue him. Of course they did. If Raph or Donny or Leo had been in his place, he wouldn't sleep until his brother was safely home. So how could he doubt them?

_How dare you doubt them? How dare you question their love, their commitment?_

_I didn't mean … I just …_

_You don't deserve to be found by them. How could you possibly think that about them? You're horrible. Despicable. Unworthy._

He was, wasn't he? Yes.

* * *

Raph trudged home through the desolate streets. The sun was starting to rise, but it wasn't enough motivation to get him to hurry. He didn't want to come back a failure. He had been positive that when he left, he'd come back with _something_. Anything. Not just another number to add to the tally of people he'd killed.

Leo would be pissed. He'd wiped the blood from his sai, but somehow he knew that the second he stepped into the Lair, Leo would just know. Maybe he had some weird heightened sense, and could smell blood a mile away. Or maybe he could just read Raph's body language well enough to figure out what had happened.

He wasn't going to get a lecture. And yet, he wasn't relieved. If Leo sat him down, scolded him, it would mean that everything was normal. That one simple package delivery hadn't just shaken their world to its very core. But if Leo ignored him—when he _knew_ that Raph had practically succumbed to his usual cardinal sin—it meant that this was real. That Mikey really was in grave danger, that there was the slight possibility that they wouldn't get their baby brother back.

He found himself in the Lair, without really remembering how he got there. He saw Don look up as he stepped inside, his face betraying hope for a brief second. But when his genius brother saw the hollowness on his face, he looked away. And Raph didn't need to see his face to know that Donny was crushed. Because Don had relied on him to bring back something that would help them, and he had failed.

Leo came into the room, from wherever he had been before. He glanced at Raph—and Raph was right, he knew right away—but his shoulders simply sagged. He looked tired. None of them knew how to deal with this.

They shouldn't have been learning how.

* * *

He found his hand on the gun again.

But this time, he didn't flinch away in disgust. Instead, the smoothness of the barrel evoked a strange feeling in him. It was hard to place.

His second glowstick had started to fade. Sixteen hours, give or take. Almost a whole day. And still no sign of his brothers. They had to be coming … but.

Ah, that was it. Calmness. That was what he felt. He hadn't experienced this since he'd opened his eyes and found himself in this tomb. It was kind of … nice.

He wished he hadn't destroyed the tape recorder. He could have said goodbye. There was nothing to write on. Nothing to scratch into the sides of the coffin with.

Why did he feel so calm and serene? Was it because he had made up his mind subconsciously? Must be. There was no other explanation for this peaceful sensation.

Not now. He'd wait a bit longer yet.

But now he had a way out.

* * *

What was the last thing he had said to Mikey? It must have been just before they all turned in for the night. He closed his eyes, trying to picture it. Mikey, tired, but somehow still radiating joy, bounded past him towards his room.

"_Night, Raph!"_

"_Yeah, whatever."_

He had been exhausted. All he could think about was getting to his bed. But _that_ was all he had said to his brother? "Whatever"? That was not acceptable. As he sat unobtrusively against a wall, listening to the rhythmic sound of Donny's typing, he swore that he would never let a thing like that slide again.

Suddenly, the typing stopped.

Raph and Leo both looked up at the same time. Donny was sitting up straight—a strange posture, he was always hunched over the keyboard—rigid with disbelief.

"I found him."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I know this update is pretty soon after the last one, but what can I say? I wrote like a crazy person. And I am aware that I change tenses right at the end - stylistic choice.

Thanks to **Simone Robinson, ChiakiAngel, BlowMyHeartUp, Randomchick16, Inumaru12, Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee, Feathers Fall Like Snow, AJ92, LilNinjaWolf** and **Chelsea619** for spamming my inbox with reviews!

* * *

_Alas! the grim legion of sepulchral terrors cannot be regarded as altogether fanciful - but, like the Demons in whose company Afrasiab made his voyage down the Oxus, they must sleep, or they will devour us - they must be suffered to slumber, or we perish._

- Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

**Chapter Six**

"I found him."

It took a few seconds for those words to sink in. He had been sitting in the corner, fiddling with his sais for hours; and in those hours, whether he liked it or not, he had slowly come to the conclusion that it was hopeless. Nothing they did any more was going to work. Donny had been typing relentlessly for over half a day, stopping only occasionally to rub his tired eyes. And every time he stopped, Raph's heart would jump in his chest, Leo would glance over quickly, and he would expect to hear Don say those three words. Every time he didn't, it crushed Raph a little more inside.

Don had caught on after a while, and ignored the burning dryness in his eyes.

But now, he heard the words audibly, and he didn't know what to do. Was he hallucinating? Had the hours of wishful thinking finally made him snap?

Leo reacted first. He grabbed the bag by his feet—the one he had packed about five hours ago, when he decided that simply pacing back and forth wasn't good enough—and headed for the door. Don sat in his chair for another split second, as if he couldn't believe it himself; and then he scribbled something down on a piece of paper and bolted after Leo.

It took Raph a few more seconds and an agitated, anxious shout from Leo before he pushed himself up off the floor. He was about halfway to his feet when it finally hit him.

"_I found him."_

He may have failed, but Donny came through. Donny knew where he was, and they were going there _right now_. And suddenly he couldn't move fast enough.

* * *

He really wished he hadn't smashed the tape recorder. It was scattered about his feet, in pieces. Once, it had been a messenger of death and doom, pity and despair. Now, it was a broken means of communication. If he hadn't been so mad, he would have saved it.

He could have said goodbye.

* * *

_Hurry up, Donny._

Raph wanted to say it, but he knew it was useless. His brother was flooring it already. The sun had just gone down, and mercifully the roads they were speeding down were decently empty. Every so often, an annoyed honk would echo through the night, as Don nearly sideswiped another car. It was a miracle the police weren't chasing them down.

_Hurry up, Don._

It was just one of those things that you thought, when you couldn't do anything. Hurry up. If he said it out loud, it would just trouble his brothers more. It would mean that Raph didn't think they could get there in time, that the fastest they were going wasn't fast enough. So he'd keep his mouth shut, just think the words.

He noticed Donny tighten his grip on the wheel briefly as he sped past another driver. A second later, the driver laid on the horn, pissed. Normally, Leo would chastise his brother for driving so recklessly. But there was nothing normal about this night.

Seventeen hours.

That was an unthinkably long time. An hour and fifteen minutes of air, Don had said—what seemed like forever ago. The Purple Dragons had said twenty-four. If they were wrong, they were fifteen and a half hours late. If they were right, they had seven hours to go. Either they were so, so late, or early.

But there was another factor, one that Raph's thoughts had been lingering on since he returned from the Dragons' warehouse.

"_They gave me a gun. One bullet."_

That was the unknown factor. How long could his brother's sanity hold? If Raph had been taken instead, how long would he last, before he gave up? Before he decided his brothers weren't coming?

_But we are._ He clenched his fists. _We are coming._

It had been so long. It shouldn't have taken this much time. If he had been able to make Dragon Face talk, if Donny had located him faster, if Leo had been awake to catch Mikey slip out … if, if, if. There was no point in dwelling on ifs. By all rights, this shouldn't have even happened. They shouldn't be here, speeding down some highway at twilight, worrying about just what would greet them when they finally opened the box.

* * *

_I'm sorry, guys. I know you did your best to find me. I know you tried your hardest. This isn't your fault—it's mine. Just wasn't good enough, I guess._

* * *

"How far, Donny?" Leo asked, his voice taut. For some reason, he felt an added sense of urgency, more prominent and pronounced than he had been feeling before.

* * *

_Sorry, Leo. You coulda lasted, bro. You always were the best at meditation. Guess I shoulda paid more attention when you were trying to teach me. You're a great leader, and an even better brother._

* * *

"Not far. It should be the next left." Don gritted his teeth. _Should_. No, it was. He had checked the location twice, just to make sure. His brothers couldn't handle it if they dug and dug, only to realize they had ended up in the wrong spot. But what had that extra time cost them?

* * *

_Sorry, Donny. You're still a genius, bro. I couldn't even attempt to do what you musta done to find me. You probably never took a break. I'm just sorry I don't have that kind of determination._

* * *

Even though the Battle Shell was already going at it's top speed, Don pressed his foot a little harder down on the accelerator.

* * *

_Sorry, Raphie. Sorry I couldn't be strong like you. You coulda taken this, but I … I just can't anymore. Forgive me._

* * *

Raph took a deep breath. They needed to go faster. He had been thinking that all night, but now … he _needed_ to be there. Right now. He could see it in his brothers, too. Something wasn't right. It felt like they were running out of time.

He moved towards the back of the Battle Shell, nearly toppling over as Donny turned sharply. Almost there … but still so much to do. He stooped down, grasping the wooden shaft of one of the shovels April had dropped off. It was morbid, what they were going to do. Digging up a brother.

The Battle Shell screeched to a stop, in some small, run-down community park. Leo and Don leapt out of the truck, and scurried around to the back. The doors were flung open, and Raph tossed his brothers two shovels. Then, clutching his own, he clambered out of the vehicle. He took in his surroundings.

It was a small park, but the vastness of it scared him. How were they supposed to find Mikey in this? They couldn't just go digging holes randomly—hoping, praying, that they weren't going to be digging up a corpse.

But Donny had it covered. He had some sort of GPS in his hands, and he was clutching it like nobody's business. Like it was his own life on the line. It probably was, come to think about it. Leo and Raph trailed after him, hands gripping their shovels tightly. Now it started to hit Raph. How was he going to cope … _if._

He could imagine it. Finding the coffin, opening the lid, triumphant for one split second—and then having everything come crashing down. Too late. Failure.

Suddenly, Don halted, stopping Raph's nightmarish visions. Here. This was it. He could see that the earth had been disturbed recently. The Dragons, burying his brother, starting this whole lurid ordeal. But it was almost over.

_Dig_.

He plunged his shovel into the dirt. _Dig, goddamn it._ Dig like your life depended on it.

* * *

He sighed. He was calm, despite what he was about to do. He knew he wouldn't have to suffer any longer. But he was sorry. He knew that his brothers would find this place eventually, if they weren't already on their way. He was sorry for what would greet them when they scraped the dirt off the top of his tomb.

He was sorry that he wasn't stronger. But he just couldn't take it anymore. It had to end. This nightmare had to end. His brothers hadn't failed him. No, it was the opposite. He had failed them.

He tightened his grip on the handle.

* * *

Raph's muscles were burning. His lungs were burning. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears. But he couldn't stop, couldn't slow down. They were making surprisingly good progress. _But not fast enough_, something told him.

He had to hurry. Could he even dig faster? He sped up anyway. He would pay for it tomorrow, but he didn't care.

_Dig._

* * *

The muzzle was resting just underneath his chin.

There was something nagging at the back of his mind, something telling him to stop, to wait just a little longer. Probably just a survival instinct. He couldn't wait any longer. If he did … how long until his sanity completely failed him? How long until he broke, and wailed and screamed beneath the ground?

He could hear something. A kind of scratching or cracking. Was the box breaking? No, he couldn't see any cracks. His heart leapt. Maybe—No, it was no use to think like that. Hope was momentarily wonderful, but it didn't last.

He couldn't take it, listening to the scratching, hoping that his brothers were coming. It had to stop.

* * *

_Thud_.

For one brief moment, they all pause, as if they can't believe they have actually done it. Then they are on their knees, clearing away the last bits of dirt with their hands. And then they are screaming.

"Hang on, Mikey!"

"We're here!"

"Mikey, can you hear me?"

Raph and Donny each clear an end, with Leo brushing dirt away in the middle. As Raph displaces more of the earth, he feels something smooth underneath it. He has found it, the surface of the box. And then he becomes frantic, shoving the dirt this way and that, until he has it all cleared away, and he can see inside.

His heart stops.

He feels that sensation, when your body gets a sudden shock. Something shoots out of your heart, something not painful, but that reminds you of pain. It tingles, and stops in your fingertips. You can feel the blood slide in and out of your veins.

_No._

He manages to find a corner, and slides his fingers under the lid. He shouts at his brothers to get off, to _move_, so he can open it. They can't see, don't know why all of a sudden Raph sounds close to hysterics. But they leap out of the hole.

He flings the box open, spraying both himself and Mikey with dirt. As Don and Leo finally see—and gasp in surprise—he reaches into the box, and his hand closes overtop of his brother's. Mikey's eyes snap open, and there is a wild look in them, something so completely _not_ Mikey that it terrifies him. He wrenches the gun from his brother's grasp, and throws it as far as he can.

Mikey looks around, confused. He doesn't see Raph for a moment. And then their eyes lock. He still looks mystified, until Raph squeezes his hand. Then the wild look is gone, and he starts to shake.

Raph leans in close, as Leo and Donny slide down into the hole. "Don't you ever, _ever_, do that again."

The words are not vicious or accusing. They are tender, low enough so his other brothers cannot hear. And Mikey begins to cry.

They all lift him out of the box, gently, as if he is a china doll and they are afraid to break him. He is still crying as they load him into the Battle Shell, choking out incoherent words. Every so often, Raph thinks he can make out the word _sorry_.

They drive home. Donny looks visibly relaxed. Leo looks tired, and like he can't believe they'd managed to do this. Raph doesn't know how he looks. He is sitting on the floor of their truck, letting his baby brother cry on his shoulder—quite literally.

He doesn't mind that Mikey's tears, and a little snot, are running down his plastron. In another situation, he would punch his brother out, and storm away, disgusted. But instead he tightens his grip around Mikey.

And they drive home.

* * *

**A/N:** While this is technically the finale, there is one more chapter to go :)


	7. Epilogue

**A/N:** The last chapter, folks. Hope it is satisfactory :)

Thanks to **Who am I. Well. I'm just Me, BlowMyHeartUp, ChiakiAngel, Hapax Legomenon, finem, Smile-I'mTheEndOfAllThatYouSee, Simone Robinson, LilNinjaWolf **and **Magiccatprinces** for their awesome reviews!

* * *

_You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience by which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, "I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along."_

- Eleanor Roosevelt

* * *

**Epilogue**

Raph can't sleep.

He's exhausted, both physically and emotionally. They've all been through hell and back in the past few hours. He deserves sleep. But he can't. Or rather, he won't.

They brought Mikey back to the lair, and he had calmed down slightly once he was home. Looking back, everything seemed fuzzy. Like he was sleepwalking through everything that happened after they got out of the Battle Shell. They took him to Don's lab, where Donny was forced to shed his role of concerned brother, and shift to objective doctor. After a few minutes of testing, Don declared Mikey physically healthy—Raph didn't like that. How he said _physically_, not just _healthy_. It implies something, something that they're all thinking, but don't want to acknowledge.

Because none of them know just how mentally affected Mikey is by this ordeal.

Part of Raph doesn't want to know. He wants to assume that in a few days, or weeks, everything will be back to normal. This time next year, it will all be just a distant memory. But another part of him worries that it isn't over, that it will never be over. And he knows at least one of his brothers is thinking that as well.

After a few hours of trying to sleep, Raph decided to grab something to drink from the kitchen. His trek to the fridge led him past Donny's computer. His brother was sitting there, looking dog-tired and determined at the same time. Raph wondered what he could be researching that was so important, when clearly Don needed some rest. So he glanced at the computer screen, read the title of the online article, and immediately regretted it.

_Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder: Causes, Symptoms, Treatment_

He inadvertently made a small noise in the back of his throat. Don turned around, caught him watching, and gave him a sad smile. Donny was already thinking about how he was going to handle this situation, and all Raph wanted to do was sleep.

Suddenly, he didn't want a drink anymore.

So Raph lies awake in his hammock, staring up at the ceiling that he can't quite see in the dark. In part, it's guilt that keeps him awake. One little brother scarred, and another thinking about an anxiety disorder that they should never have had to face. All he wants to do is sleep. He wants everything to go back to the way it was before. But he knows that it's impossible, and that thinking like that is unfair to his brothers.

It isn't just the guilt that deprives him of sleep.

Maybe "deprives" isn't the right word. Earlier, he wanted to sleep. Now, he's not so sure. His thoughts are haunted by nightmarish visions. Whenever he closes his eyes, macabre images are projected in front of him. It's been getting worse all night. Even now, with his waking eyes, he can see them.

It starts in the lair.

Something slows them down. Maybe Raph trips. Maybe Donny stretches out his bunched up shoulders and stops typing. Maybe Leo isn't there when they get the location. Maybe they take a wrong turn. Maybe they get stuck behind a slow driver. It's never the same, but something slows them down. They get there, two minutes, _one second_ later, and everything changes.

Sometimes they haven't quite hit the box yet, and they hear the bang. Sometimes, Raph clears the dirt away just a second too late. He sees the flash of the muzzle, hears the thundering explosion, sees red splatter across the Plexiglas. Sometimes, he can't grab Mikey's hand in time. Blood splatters his cheek.

They were so close to being too late. The future could have changed in an instant.

He's angry at Mikey. He hates himself for it, but he can't help it. After the relief died down, his brain began to process everything. Mikey had a gun to his head. That meant he had given up. That he didn't trust them to find him. That he thought they had failed him. He knows he'll never be able to understand his brother's thought process. Even if he was put in the same situation, they are two different people. Raph wouldn't experience it the way Mikey did.

But that doesn't make him feel any better. He gets a tight feeling in his chest, and suddenly he needs to check on his brother. Not because he thinks that Mikey is suicidal. He just needs to see him, to reassure himself that they managed to do it.

He hops to the floor, and walks silently towards Mikey's room. On his way, he glances down into the main room. There is still light coming from Don's computer. But maybe he has fallen asleep, to his own dreams. Hopefully Don's dreams are not as tainted as Raph's.

He stops at Mikey's doorway, and peers in. He can see his brother's sleeping form under his blankets. He sees the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Slow, normal breaths. He leans against the doorframe, unsure of how to proceed. Does he go inside? Does he go back to his own room, to battle his nightmares?

"I …"

Even though it's barely a whisper, the sound makes Raph jump a little. He didn't think that his brother would be awake. But he is, and doesn't want Raph to leave. So he slips inside Mikey's room. He stops halfway to his brother's bed. For some reason, he can't make himself go any closer.

"I would dream you rescued me."

Mikey's voice is small and pitiful. It's missing his usual wryness. It doesn't sound like him at all. But Raph listens.

"I'd dream you found me, brought me home. And I was so happy. But then I'd wake up, back underground. It was so crushing, so frustrating. And I just …" He trails off, but Raph knows what he wants to say.

It doesn't make everything okay. He's still angry with his little brother for giving up. But he also knows that Mikey can't take his disappointment right now. He'll keep it inside, deal with it himself. This is his problem. Mikey has enough of his own.

"Raph?"

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, a reflection of the stress and pain that he's just getting over.

Mikey hesitates for a second. Raph debates egging him on with a joking rib, but bites it back. Too early.

"How do I know this is real? How do I know that, when I go to sleep, I won't wake up back there?"

He doesn't know how to answer this. Because he _knows_ this is real. He knows this, because the other versions of his reality are too gruesome to allow him to slip into a false, happy hallucination. But how can he prove this to Mikey, who has been through so much, whose tortured mind he can't begin to understand?

"You're just gonna have to trust me, bro," he says eventually. "It's real. It might be scary to go to sleep, but you're gonna wake up here. You're gonna wake up safe."

It's a lame answer. Leo could come up with something better. Don could ramble on about some scientific shit that somehow proves his point. But it's the best he's got.

"Okay."

He stands there awkwardly for a few seconds. He was expecting to have to justify himself … but apparently Mikey believes him. His answer is enough to get him to sleep. Good. He needs it, more than any of them. Raph takes a step backwards.

"Raph?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay? I know it's kinda lame … but just for tonight … I won't tell anyone …"

On another night, this would seem childish. They're teenagers. But this is different. _This_ is how he can help his brother. And so, without a word, he slides under the covers of his brother's bed.

"Goodnight, Mikey."

"Night, bro."

_Bro._

Raph smiles, and closes his eyes.

* * *

_It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer._

- Samwise Gamgee


End file.
